


Ways of living

by blakefancier



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen, Psychological Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-26
Updated: 2011-04-26
Packaged: 2017-10-18 17:16:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/191292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blakefancier/pseuds/blakefancier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blake knew that survival was dirty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ways of living

It was cold and the patches of dried blood made his skin itch. There was condensation on the wall; he was so thirsty, he considered licking it. But he wasn't that far gone. Not yet. He tried not to kid himself. He knew that by the end of this ordeal he will have done some rather horrible and humiliating things.

That was the cost of survival and he knew the cost better than anyone. Even better than Avon. Avon had never lost his pride, never felt crushing defeat or shame so hot that tears prickled his eyes. He thought survival was clean: anger and hate and smug triumph.

Blake knew that survival was none of that. He knew that survival meant crouching in shit and stripping the clothes off the corpses of your friends because you needed them more than they did and it meant enduring violation after violation, It meant keeping that spark of hope inside of you, deep, deep inside of you, willing it to live with the last of your breath and the final beat of your heart. Keeping it alive, even when you were half dead.

It meant you let yourself go insane, because how else were you going to make it through the filth, the cold loneliness?

*****  
The wall was rough against his tongue and he had stopped shivering some time ago.

*****

The bastard offered him a glass of water. He watched a droplet slide down the glass and pool onto the table. He swallowed, his dry scratchy throat hurt from the movement. All he had to do was tell them and he could have the glass. All he had to do was betray them. He wanted to cry, but his tears had dried up hours ago.

"I don't know," he said in a voice that sounded nothing like him. It sounded small and desperate and afraid; oh, maybe that was just like him.

The bastard didn't believe him. The bastard smiled and took a sip of the water and asked him again, if he wouldn’t like to talk about the new battle plans.

"I don't know." And he wished that he did.

"You expect me to believe that Avalon didn't tell you the new battle plans? Do I look stupid to you, Blake?" The bastard threw the glass and it exploded against the wall.

He gasped and took a step towards the mess, but his guards grabbed him, held him tight. He didn't know, he made sure that Avalon told him nothing, just in case.

The bastard was disgusted. "Take him back to his cell."

The guards obeyed him. Eventually.

*****  
He swallowed the blood that filled his mouth and closed his eyes. The pain was a welcome distraction. It kept him from wondering where they were, if they were close, if they would even bother.

*****  
The rats were as bold as brass. He held his injured hand against his chest and watched out for their glassy eyes.

*****  
The smell of roast beef was thick in the air and his stomach clenched painfully at the emptiness in his stomach. His breath stuttered out of him and before he could stop himself, he whispered "please."

The bastard smiled, his eyes lighting up.

Suddenly, he felt sick and dirty and he wanted to hide his face in his hands. But he didn't. He stood there and met the bastard's eyes. "I don't know. I... I don't know."

*****

In the dark, the sound of their tiny claws skittering across the cement floor made his skin crawl. He picked up a rock with his uninjured hand and held it close.

*****

Horizon, Lindor, Saurian Minor, he thought, but his tongue felt too heavy in his mouth.

*****

Food first, water first, he thought, staring the floor

*****

I don't know, he thought, their beady eyes boring into him. But their teeth no longer hurt, nor did their fists, their knives.

*****

Cally frowned and covered him with a blanket, her words sounded faint. Then Avon was there and Blake tried to smile, he tried to say, "I knew you'd come," but the lie would not form on his lips.

He wondered if he was dead, but then he felt the cold of the bracelet as it snapped around his wrist, felt the shuddering vibration of teleport, and knew he wasn't.


End file.
